Randy Chan in Suspension Land
by bittersweet saturn
Summary: This is the first of a long arc that X La Fille Morte X and I are writing. Parts aren't finished, but I'm posting this first part. It's Randy Orton, Bob Orton, and Juventud. Start's with dear Randy's suspension.


_Premise: Okay, Randy has been suspended. (Really, he was suspended on the WM22 weekend, which was the 1st and 2nd of April, but it didn't take effect until his last Smackdown, on the 14th of April.) Juventud Guerrera, at this point, has been hanging out with "Cowboy" Bob Orton, with whom he is evidently real-life friends, for about a week. Bob lives in Tennessee; let's all take a moment to pity Bob. It's just after WrestleMania, so Juvi doesn't know that Randy's been suspended quite yet._

Oh, and one more note. Since some of this will be from Juvi's perception, keep in mind that his doesn't speak a whole lot of English. Since I know almost no Spanish, however, he makes a point to use all the English he can, in a pointless effort to be understood. Also, he is **CRAZY**, which doesn't help his syntax. Just accept his speech and move on.

**Warnings: Unconventional cooking, Shopping, Friendship of a disturbing level, Racism, Shakira, Telephones. THIS FIC IS RATED "J" FOR JUICY!**

Power Cooking

The Juicy One hummed to himself as he cooked his and Bob's dinner, his brows slightly furrowed. All Bob had spoken of lately had been Randy, Randy, Randy, as if The Juice was not five feet from him at all times! Scoffing, Juventud flipped the sizzling steaks, and dusted them with garlic. Bob liked garlic. Perhaps this extra garlic would persuade Bob to finally go on that 4-wheeling adventure Juventud had been hoping for.

"Hey, Hoov, those steaks almost done? I've got a real hankerin for-" Bob stopped in his tracks when he came in from the back porch. The Juicy One turned to find his good friend gawking. A minute passed, and finally Bob managed to say,

"Uh, Hoov, I know I said my home was your home, and I really don't care, I suppose, but... Why are you cooking our steaks without a stitch of clothing?" Juventud barked a short laugh, and replied,

"Oh, Bob! This is how The Juicy One always cooks! It is Power Cooking Time! Yes, yes, now the steaks, they are almost done!" Cowboy Bob chuckled warmly.

"Oh, Hoovster, you sure know how to lighten a guy up. Why, when Randy used to pull that sort of thing, I'd tan his hide so hard..." The grizzled former wrestler trailed off, not noticing that Juventud had rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated.

It was not his imagination! The Juice was being the best friend to Bob, such a good man, that he could be, and yet all that was talked of was _Randy_. Juventud had it up to his very neck with the son of Bob!

There was a bright side; the steaks were done, and so very good if Juventud was right, which he always was. He put a steak on each of the plates set down on the kitchen table and sat opposite Bob, and lifted his arms up to proclaim,

"Do you smell what The Juicy One cooks? The Juice can! It is _perfection_!" Bob just chuckled and said,

"Oh, Hoov, you're such a card! It's so good to have another person around." The Juice nodded. It was true. Bob was much happier after he had come to stay with him. Their releases from the WWE had hit both of them hard. Juventud narrowed his eyes at the thought of Vince McMahon, that lying curr. The Juice would make the perfect champion! The angry thoughts ran through the Mexican's head, leaving him unaware that he was mangling his steak.

"Hoov... Hoov! Dang, boy, you got the scariest face on you like I never seen before! What's wrong; Old Bob can help." After being snapped back to the real world, Juventud's thought quickly. No need to bother Bob with his glorious plans of vengeance. He absently rubbed a kink out of his shoulder and replied,

"Oh, Bob! It was nothing but a sore ache. The couch is comfortable, but only for a short time, yes?" The Cowboy's face turned guilty and he put his fork and knife down to say,

"Aw, Hoov, don't you worry, we'll set you up in Randy's old room. It's not like he'll be using it any time soon..." when Bob trailed off again, the former Mexicool frowned and made a brief hiss of what could have been pain, and continued massaging his shoulder. Bob's attention was immediately snatched back, and he smiled.

"Ho ho, sorry, Hoov! Here, how about I rub the kinks out of your shoulders? I always did have a way with my hands." Juventud smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the setting sunlight, and replied,

"Yes yes, Bob, such a good man to help The Juice out! The Juicy One will take the offer of Randy's room." Bob chuckled and stood up to move behind Juvi, and began massaging his bare neck and shoulders. Yes, The Juice could see this working. And if Randy, oh, that Randy, got in the way of his and Bob's friendship again, there would be such delicious paying back.

Juventud hopped out of Bob's truck, clasping the new bed sheets close to him. Leopard print! Oh, he was so excited. Such great plans he had for Randy's childhood room. He was so happy his friend had taken him to the Wal-Mart to pick up new accessories. The self-proclaimed Juicy One had even been so fortunate to find a red light bulb to illuminate Juvi's new Juice Bar. Bob followed the Mexican into the house, whistling. He chuckled, seeing Juvi bounce into his new room, and called,

"Do you want any help with that stuff, Hoov?" Juventud's head leaned out of the narrow door frame, grinning.

"No, Bob, but such considerate man to suggest assistance! No, The Juicy One has it over the control, as they say!" Bob chuckled and went into the kitchen to make them some lunch. Juventud turned around to grin at his new room. It was small, but would suit The Juicy One's needs just fine. It was fortunate that Bob collected so many wrestling magazines, for the special touches Juvi planned for the room. Juventud set down the silk bed sheets on the double bed, getting ready to work, when he saw something poking from under the bed. He reached under to find a ratty, dusty, old stuffed bear. The puzzled look on Juventud's face turned into a delighted grin, when he saw another bear! The first was small, dingy, and used to be white at some point, but was now a dirty gray color. The other was at least three times the size of the other, and was a faded pink. Juventud noticed a rainbow on its stomach, and he realized it was one of those "Compassion Bears" he had seen of late on teenagers' shirts.

These must have been Randy's. The Juice laughed at the boy's weakness. What boy kept toy bears? He shrugged, and carried them out into the kitchen, laying them on the table. Clearing his throat, Juvi proclaimed,

"Bob, the food smells very eatable!" This startled the Hall of Famer, who turned and chuckled, responding,

"Oh, Hoov, you'd best take care or I'll have myself a darned heart attack!" He spotted the two bears on the table and looked surprised.

"Those are Randy's bears, Hoov! Where'd you find those?" Juventud replied, sniffing in contempt,

"The bears live under the bed. Bob, you good man! Tell The Juicy One what they are to Randy!" Bob smiled, a thousand miles away.

"Why, Randy got those when he was no more than six. He's loved those ratty old things forever..." he trailed off for a moment, and then seemed to collect himself to continue, "Give them here, Hoov. I'll throw them out for you." Juventud picked them up and shook his head, however, replying,

"Oh, Bob! So helpful! But no, The Juice will keep Randy's bears! They are, how you say, romance sentiment!" He beamed at his friend, who shrugged good-naturedly, and went back to preparing the sandwiches.

"Suit yourself, Hoovester. You latinos and your romance, ha ha. You slay me, Hoov!" The Mexican was already back in his room, however. He placed the two bears on the bed, debating what to do with them. So many options. It would be fitting revenge to destroy them. But so far, Randy had done nothing to him. Certainly nothing to warrant any bear-mistreatment. The Juice would just have to wait and see what happened to judge the treatment of the bears in the future. Juventud shrugged, and put them in the closet. It was time to re-decorate, yes!

Juventud was putting posters up in his new room the next day, humming to himself and bobbing to the Shakira CD he had put in when the phone rang. Bob was at his dealership, so the Mexican ran to the kitchen to answer it himself. He hoped it was another telemarketer. He had wooed one chica so much she offered to throw in a free toaster oven with his purchase of her non-stick frying pans, but he had to turn her down in the end. No sense breaking her heart. The Juice could not be contained to one heart's passion.

When Juvi answered the phone, he prepared to sweep the next lucky woman off her feet, and leaned against the kitchen counter. He heard the one voice he hadn't expected to hear, however, and it took him a moment to realize who it was. It was Randy, the son of Bob, and his smile disappeared when the legend killer said,

"Hey, Dad? Is that you? It's me, Randy." Juventud's jaw stuck out, and he felt the resentment that had been building in the past week begin to bubble up in his chest. Gritting his teeth, the Mexican half-snarled,

"No, _Randy_, you speak to The Juicy One. Tell The Juice what you want and hang up." There was a shocked silence, but Randy came back to ask, incredulously,

"_What?_ What the hell are you doing at my dad's house? ... Okay, you know what, never mind, just get Dad." Juventud bristled at the brat's tone. How did Randy think he could talk to The Juicy One with such disrespect? His superior blood demanded retaliation, and he stood up from the counter, retorting,

"Bob is at work doing the car deals! You can shut your yapping mouth and not waste The Juicy One's time, _Randy_!" The angry response was almost immediate from Randy.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you fucking spic! It's bad enough I just got suspended, but the last person I want to talk to is some Mexican reject!" Juventud was about to launch into a tirade of his proud heritage, but stopped at one thing. He thought for a moment, and asked,

"The son of Bob has been suspended?" Randy scoffed, and said,

"Whatever, like I need to tell _you_ anything." Juventud's eyes narrowed, and he sneered,

"The Juice demands to know! Bob gave Randy's room to The Juicy One, so you should admit inferiority!" Randy's response was one of disbelief.

"My... My room? What are you talking about? Dad gave you my room? Come on, he'd never do that." The Juicy One crowed,

"Yes, yes, it is honesty! The Juicy One has made your inferior childhood room one fit for The Juice Bar! Even the bears, _Randy_."

"What did you do to Binky and Boomer?" Randy asked, seeming panicked. Juventud laughed at his foolishness, and said,

"Boomtown? What name is that? The bears sleep in the compost!" That wasn't really true, but the superstar's response made Juventud feel warm inside, and he was glad for the lie. The Juicy One was so clever. 

"_Compost!_ No!" The Mexican smiled at Randy's distress; he deserved it, the inferior ingrate. He could hear Randy on the other end, trying to compose himself enough to talk, and when he did, it was in a low hiss,

"Listen, you fucking wetback, I'm coming home on the 15th, and when I get there, you'd better be _long_-gone. And you'd better give those bears back." With that, the third-generation superstar hung up. Juventud placed the phone back on the receiver, satisfied. He didn't know what Randy meant about the 15th, but Randy had to know defeat when he heard it. No one was superior to his latino blood.

For the rest of the day, the former Mexicool finished re-decorating his new room, putting his new silk, leopard-print sheets on the bed and taping his romantic posters from _Hustler_ and _Big Boys in Boots_ on the wall. When he was finished, he stood in the middle and looked around; it was perfect. He had put the mirror on the wall opposite his bed, and it made the classiest last touch.

The front door opened, and Juventud could hear Bob's heavy footsteps as he came in. Cheerful, Juvi bounded out to meet him, and was met with a solemn look from his friend. Confused, the Mexican cocked his head and asked,

"What is wrong, Bob? Surely no trouble at work? Did customers steal your cars?" The older man let a short laugh out, but shook his head and said,

"Randy's taking a vacation in a few days, and said you were rude to him on the phone. Come on, Hoov, you're better than that." Juventud blinked, and had to think fast. He licked his lips and replied,

"The Juice? Rude? No, it was passion and excitement! Randy took passion for rudeness and, how you say, chewed out The Juicy One! It was hurtful." Bob's face dawned with realization, and he sighed with relief.

"Oh, good, good. I'd hate to think we'd have problems, Hoovy," he said, putting a hand on his smaller friend's shoulder. The Juice quirked an eyebrow and asked,

"Problems? We?" Bob nodded, and continued,

"Randy's coming to stay with us, Hoov. Didn't he tell you? I guess he can have his old room back." Juventud squashed the wave of rage that swept through him, biting his tongue. Randy, staying here? In his old room? That was unacceptable! He swallowed, and replied, sweetly,

"But The Juicy One put so much money and time into fixing up Randy's musty childhood room, Bob!" and looked into his friend's eyes, pouting. Bob looked down, seemingly thinking, and nodded. He gave the Mexican a warm hug and said,

"You're right, Hoov. It wouldn't be fair. The couch in the living room is pretty comfortable. Randy won't have any problem with it, I'm sure." Juventud grinned, feeling the bond between them tighten. Good. He hugged back, and an idea came to his mind. Pulling away, Juvi suggested,

"Does not a restaurant to celebrate sound delicious, Bob?" The big man's eyes lit up, and he smiled. He responded,

"Sure thing, Hoovester! I'll go change, and we can go wherever you want." Juventud beamed after Bob's retreating back. It was clear that The Juice was superior in Bob's heart, and he intended to keep it that way.


End file.
